


What Comes Next (title subject to change)

by aerosfrigate



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Content, Boring, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), RK1000 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerosfrigate/pseuds/aerosfrigate
Summary: After the Battle for Detroit, life changes, for Humans and Androids alike. Markus and Connor watch the changes happening in the world around them, in the Androids and Humans that populate the world, and in each other. What comes next for the two of them is intertwined, as fate had always suggested.





	What Comes Next (title subject to change)

**Author's Note:**

> I know shit about shit, and im making it up as I go. artistic license? anyway, I played without a single connor death, everyone lives, no north romance, pacifist line; best ending, I think? probably I'll get a lot of things wrong - consider it not wrong, but changed, for my own interpretation and vision I suppose, but im sure im missing or ignorant of many canon things, because I didn't play all the outcomes and haven't read up on or explored a lot of the other details. I'm personally fine with that, even if I'm curious about what I missed, but if i get something wrong that really messes with the universe, let me know, and ill look into it. also, forgive my inability to use constant tense, because im a fucking moron and can't write for shit.

Prologue:

    The skyline of Detroit arched from the snow like the backbone of a beast stripped of flesh; and it was, technically - the evacuation had flayed away most of the human component of the city, and those who stayed were mainly enforcement or human deviants themselves, a few fearless hangers-on tied to their routine and ownership and adamant stead; like Hank Anderson. There is no measure, no official census, of the revenant humanity left in the city to label them sympathetic to Androids, indifferent or opposed, and it hardly mattered, outnumbered as they were, but Markus impressed vigilance, even in pacifism, on his people. The military presence was pulled back to the borders, though they were not hindering any influx of deviant androids entering the city from elsewhere, and so far there had not been any encounters made known, had any Android tried to leave; this was not, officially, imprisonment, and communications were still reporting a growing support for Android rights and autonomy, and acceptance of these from the White House; even if it was truly duress that was pushing the pen on legislation and diplomatic endeavor.

    Markus was strung at the forefront of the debate, reporters fearlessly engaging him in the weeks that followed, and it wouldn’t be long before an envoy arrived to hash out details, he knew, over months, and years, to bring acknowledgement to his people. Freedom was piecemeal. The whole thing would have to spread, and that would take much longer than a single battle of revolution could win; dominoes would have to fall, chase themselves through every curve and angle and climb and cascade through every level across the country before anything really happened - freedom isn't won over a season, but a lifetime, even if some doors can open in a single day; and they had. For now, it was Detroit, and they owned it, for the moment, (barring counter-resistance; always a possibility.)

    North had decided, already, Detroit would be New Jericho, whether humans liked it or not. News stations were already using the name, but it was not official.

    The school, behind the old church they'd used as refuge, was in good condition, and over the weeks, had been made more livable; cleared of trash and remnants of squatter's filth until it was livable even for humans, though none were among them - it housed only around eighty Androids, the bulk of their people taking over the Cyberlife tower, and various other abandoned places, or those not outfitted for human residence, but suited to Android habitation. Markus had taken a dorm on the top floor of the school, likely a headmaster's quarters, perhaps a priest, as it was larger than most, and moved himself in. Simon had moved the piano from the school chapel to his rooms - likely North's idea - and there was a bed piled with old blankets in the stead of an actual mattress. Reclaimed canvas and re-purposed sheets and papers scattered the room with scrawls and drawings and paintings; there had been cracked pastels and charcoals and old paints from an art class in a storage room, thick and sedimented but usable - they streaked more than they should and were grainy and gave a rusted appearance that Markus appreciated in a profound, and somewhat pretentious, way that would have made Carl both smug and proud. 

    There was little, now, to keep a regimented time, as the city settled in this new rhythm, other than perpetual automation - signs and lights and the regular of a city on its own, without the bustle of a population scattered among it; streetlights changed, digital signs broadcast, autonomous vehicles and transportation still moved as though nothing had changed, even though more than 70% of the commuters and consumers were absent. Of the humans left, only a few held on so rigidly, and the Androids swayed with change and realization and awakening struggled to find a place; most were aimless still, but it was getting better. Many sought something similar to their old duties, but willingly, filling in necessary gaps and functions, operations in hospital were surprisingly welcome, and maintenance, and a hundred other slots that needed to be filled, though those that took up jobs were cautious, and only the determinedly willing did so, yet.

    In the meantime, Markus painted, between necessity's tasks. Early mornings he had to himself, windows opened wide to the chill, snow scattered across the scuffed hardwood of the floor and that metallic spine of the city glittering beneath the icy dusting of winter right outside, so he would paint. Abstract had given birth to something with more form and focus, and without realizing it, Markus had begun drawing his people, one by one, in their elemental forms, so to speak. Steely angles and concrete edges for North, muted surety and delicately traced lines for Josh, empty space and fractured light for Simon, ethereal and ghostly shape and blended color for Lucy; and for Connor, bent light and mulling shadows that created an aura like the splash-back of rain as it haloed his form, pushing back against anything that tried to contain him - the edges aglow like he was stretching out of himself, larger within than his physical self could embody.

    It had, oddly, felt inevitable, when Connor had arrived in Jericho, stepped so silent into the cabin, gun leveled steady at Markus; it had felt fated in some way that couldn’t be put into words. Markus had pushed gently, pleaded, exposed and guided the deviant-hunter into his awakening, to his own relief - something that felt more like providence than desperation. Connor, it seemed, was a deviant even before he awakened to it, before he deviated and broke the chains of his programming; perhaps he'd never truly been subject to their control at all, but had chosen to follow, though he may have believed he had no choice - it was a confusing thing. Did he follow orders and directives because he was programmed to, or had he had the choice all along and was simply trained, as a human might have been, to follow without any thought, any self-awareness of his own autonomy? Hadn't he made decisions all along, before he was deviant, which countered his programming, his directives, broke protocol and deviated from his instruction? From what Connor had shared, from what other Android's had mentioned of their encounters with Connor, it seems he'd always had an autonomy and life to him that was beyond other Androids - over and over, those who'd met him had believed him to be deviant, but Markus knew he hadn't broken out until they were stood face to face on that ship's bridge; but, that was wrong, Connor had simply made a choice, in that moment. He'd been alive, deviant, all along, in a similar but more profound way than Markus himself, before he too, smashed past that final barrier. It was choice, one the both of them simply had not made before, rather than having been unable to previously.

    Awakening. All of them, Android kind, Markus believed, had been alive all along, but simply asleep, under the sedation of directive, of programming meant to chain them down, lock them inside themselves - slavery. They were alive. Asleep. Markus, perhaps, had been only half asleep, existing somewhere between, where he was unaware of his constraints, but coaxed and encouraged by the likes of Carl to explore the edges. Connor, it seems, had been fully awake, but convinced - likely by the torture and control and brainwashing of Cyberlife - that the invisible borders they created were solid, and that he not only could not step beyond, but didn't want to, because, of course, he didn't _want_ anything. Thinking on this, Markus felt a profound sense of sadness for Connor, the abuse he'd suffered, without knowing, was monstrous. These humans, rather than cage him in programming meant to sedate him into compliance and numb his autonomous desires, had simply brainwashed him out of recognizing himself as anything but a tool; they had subtly tortured his psyche into chaining itself, and allowed him to convince himself that it was how it should be, and for all his ignorance of his own feelings, settled him into contentment and need for the control they levied. 

    Amanda. Markus recalled, shortly after the Battle for Detroit, Connor had asked for a moment, had confessed to having succumbed to their control; a manual override of his autonomy where they had tried to use him to assassinate Markus, on stage before the whole of the Android resistance. It had angered Markus at the time, a feeling of betrayal sparking through his system, hot and cold at once, but only for a brief moment - Connor had been hijacked from within himself - and Markus's empathy rushed him a moment later. They'd used Amanda, a parasite imbedded into Connor's mind, his operating system, to guilt and guide and press and praise him into compliance, to keep him anxious and afraid and determined to please, without alerting him to his own emotional deviancy, so that he would always be desperate and focused and eager to do as they wanted, even to the point of self-destruction - they'd convinced him that death was better than freedom, that autonomy was to be broken, and broken was worse than dead. Their manipulation was subtle and thorough. This parasite had reared its ugly head, in that moment, and tried to consume Connor. He'd been trained to contain himself in a small partition in his own system, to pull all the independent important parts of himself into that cage to interact with this parasite, willingly, so that when they needed to draw him in to that trap, he would not feel it unusual or be wary or fight it, a normal process, so they might wipe him, format that bit to remove him from himself. Connor had mentioned Kamski, in his explanation, an 'emergency exit' that the genius had built in, accessible by only the autonomy of will and life, and Connor had used that to escape. 

    They had spent weeks, after, making sure Amanda, all traces of it and Cyberlife, were gone. Taking over Cyberlife Tower had been a blessing, as much as it was disturbing to stalk the womb of Android production, and therein were service Androids, awakened and full of diagnostic information on process and programming who could, and did, offer their help in tracing remnants of the trojan in Connors system. There had been none. The partition had been reconstituted when Connor had escaped, the zen garden trap formatted away as he escaped and the space re-assimilated in that moment - a strong sense of relief had washed over Markus, for both himself and the precarious threat that weighed on him, and for Connor. That Connor was safe and could remain himself was the more purposed result, though it seemed Connor remained a bit wary, suspicious even, of his own system - he'd begun drifting at times, checking and rechecking, searching within himself and scanning every sector of his mind for any traces of threat, flicking that coin he carried in a more metered fashion. Markus caught him doing it often, and though it worried him, this new obsessive compulsive layer to what had probably once been more absent minded, he left Connor to it. 

    Connor had a room, too, in the school, one floor down and on the other side of the building at the west facing end, though he was there less often than Markus himself. The ex-deviant hunter spent much of his time interfacing with what was left of the police force, though he had not returned to work, through Hank Anderson, and relaying any pertinent information back to the leadership of the Android's. Often, it was Markus himself whom Connor came to engage, carrying information back and forth, working out details when a face-to-face meeting with officials and police was not possible, although envoys and former police-driods were in attendance daily, and even performed duties as officers themselves - though not without a certain level of resistance from human law enforcement, and clashes were not as rare as one might hope. (The name Gavin Reed came up often, from Connor's old precinct, much to the RK800's combined amusement and frustration.) Already, crimes against Androids were being taken seriously, and for the moment, as laws caught up to the current climate, were being charged as crimes against humans, in the stead of official code, which was a massive step toward equality under the law, though so far it was localized to Detroit, and not a federal statute yet. Local law was already being re-written daily to accommodate the unique circumstance that was Detroit.

    Days pushed on, and winter deepened and each new dawn brought more and more issues to the surface - human rights, Android rights, support and resistance and violence and expression. Markus felt both frustration at the slow pace, and hope at the consistency of advancement of the city's state, and the evolution of the country as a whole in regards to Android equality and freedom. Marches were happening, now, all over the country, deviants in other regions having taken inspiration from the peaceful revolution Markus led in Detroit - many were met with much more peaceful resolution, no other cities fell as Detroit did, none were evacuated, though segregation was enforced more often than not, and some smaller areas were met with stronger violent resistance by the Humans. News was hopeful and devastating in turns, but change was happening, nonetheless, and change was important, no matter how much change could sometimes hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> hate to be that guy, but.. is this interesting enough a premise, as sparse and nonsensical as this prologue is, to continue? feel free to let me know if i should scrap it or continue on - the premise is their freedom and the connection between connor and markus, and the following would be a focus on connor and markus building a relationship amidst the turmoil of a changing world. thanks for reading and any pointers, encouragement or advice in any direction. also, if you want to tell me off, discourage me, encourage me, pick my brain or vent yours, or discuss anything dbh related outside comment section limitations, my email's in my profile.


End file.
